The Best Laid Plans
by Ponaco
Summary: April has a plan and she isn't about to let anything stand in her way. A companion piece to "Click," taking place a couple weeks after the last chapter. Rated M for smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: If there is such a thing as fluffy smut, this is probably it. A bit steamier than anything in _Click_, hence the mature rating. Consider yourself warned. I figured these two needed some happy alone time after all they've been through.  
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**Takes place a couple weeks after the last chapter of _Click_, and is told from April's POV. There might be a companion piece from Donnie's view, but I haven't decided yet. **

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><p>The Best Laid Plans<p>

April

There's a precise, yet tentative knock on the door and I know it's him before I open it. Not only because he said he was coming over. He could have never mentioned it and I would still know it was him. No one else would knock in that same way. It's a comfort and I feel a smile stretching across my face as I move through the kitchen to answer.

I slide open the locks and pull open the door, my smile turning into a grin when I see him standing on the other side. He's wearing a large winter coat with the hood covering his head and a scarf wrapped around his face so only his eyes are visible. Black sweat pants cover his legs and heavy, black boots encompass his feet. He looks a touch on the ridiculous side, but he's still not well enough to go climbing and jumping across rooftops so the disguise is a bit of a necessity.

"Hey April," he says with a tiny wave. The fluffy purple mittens covering his hands bring a small giggle from my throat. "I think I might have scared your neighbor," he admits, shuffling inside when I move to allow him entrance.

"Mrs. Leary? Don't worry about it. She's scared of everyone. One time she told my dad she thought I was carrying bombs in my backpack to school," I insist, closing and locking the door behind him.

He struggles to take off his boots, but I know better than to offer help if he doesn't ask for it. He'll get there. We just have to be patient. He does it and instantly curls his toes into the carpet beneath his feet once they're free. It's been almost a week since we've seen each other in person. There have been long, meandering phone calls and an almost embarrassing number of text messages, but my time has been preoccupied with finals and school projects and he hasn't been allowed to leave the lair.

"I'm glad they let you go for the night," I say, unzipping his jacket with a smile.

He pushes back the hood and pries the scarf from his face, his green skin flush from the cold or possibly the feel of my hands slipping inside his coat.

"Y-yeah," he says with a nervous little laugh. "I'm still surprised Sensei let me go. Although, he did insist on a rather strict curfew."

"A curfew?" I ask, grinning when my hands find the smooth shoots of the bridge between his carapace and plastron.

There's a tiny hitch in his breath. He tries to hide it, but I heard it and I want to hear it again. He shrugs out of the coat and instantly shivers without the protective layer of clothing. The scar on his plastron is still painfully deep and jagged, curving down around the edges where that monster cracked it. I know it will fade in time, but the mere sight of it is enough to cool any of the less than innocent thoughts I have been entertaining. I look away when he catches me staring. I'm not surprised when his fingers reach out to take hold of my wrist.

"It's snowing," he says, the words an almost desperate plea to avoid what he thinks I might say in sight of his lingering injuries.

"Yeah?" I murmur and put another smile on my face. "Guess I'll have to think of a way to warm you up," I reply and his worried look is gone in a flash, replaced with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth.

"Oh…um, that's…I mean…"

I turn and stand on my tiptoes to cut him off with a kiss. Tonight wasn't supposed to be about the things we'd both rather avoid. I wasn't going to mention his scars or the way anything even remotely strenuous still brings a pained grimace to his face. I wasn't going to call attention to the way his right hand still fumbles and struggles to move or how he still looks so tired. Tonight was supposed to be about making him feel better…feel good. I had a plan. I had decided. I'm not about to go back on it now.

"Come here," I breathe around another kiss. "I want to show you something."

There's that hitch again and I fight back a smug smile at my success. I take hold of his hand and move towards my bedroom. My heart is hammering in my chest and when my thumb slides along the side of his wrist I can feel his pulse racing as well. The butterflies are back and they're flapping up a thunderous typhoon. For once I welcome them. They spur me forward and make me determined to prove them wrong. My bedroom door creaks open and I fumble for the light switch along the wall.

"You…um, how were finals?" he asks when I let go of his wrist and leave him to shift awkwardly on his feet.

He's looking everywhere but at me, the deep green color of a blush still lingering on his face. He'll start rambling soon. Maybe breaking down the science of accumulation or laying out the statistics for each possible letter grade I might receive on my tests. I don't want him to be nervous. With him anxiety quickly follows and that's the opposite of feeling good. I need him to relax. It's not an easy task, but I'm up to the challenge.

"Fine," I say with a dismissive shrug before peeling off my sweatshirt leaving only the thin camisole underneath to cover my torso.

He swallows and stares. I blush even though I try desperately not to and he averts his gaze with something close to shame flickering in his eyes. I don't want him to feel ashamed. There is nothing shameful about what we're doing. Nothing at all and I need him to understand that. I need him to believe it. I close the distance between us and reach up to wrap my arms around his neck so that he has no choice but to lower his head.

"I've missed you," I whisper, letting out a small sigh when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and the shame goes fleeing off to the dark corners where it belongs.

"Missed you too," he replies and there's a huskiness to his voice that makes me forget the chill on the air and warms me straight to the center.

Our lips meet again and I waste no time opening my mouth to his. Our embraces may have been awkward at first, but we've found the perfect way to fit and have no trouble returning to it with each new try. I moan quietly when his hand settles on the small of my back, arching encouragingly into the touch. He applies more pressure and moves his fingers in slow, even circles that trace my spine and turn my legs to jelly. I lean into him for support and a surprised gasp of pleasure rips from my throat when his thigh moves up between my legs.

"Sorry," he says, instantly maneuvering around the accidental touch.

"D-don't apologize," I pant. "It felt good," I add with a blush that I'm sure covers my entire body.

I lick my lips and try desperately to circumvent my own embarrassment, because there is nothing to be embarrassed about. I press my hands along his bridge and push him towards the bed. He very much looks like a deer in headlights, stumbling until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. I give another push and he slides down. I don't wait for him to adjust, crawling onto his lap and taking hold of his face for another kiss.

His hands are back on my body, this time acting with a little more boldness. He lifts up the hem of my camisole and skin touches skin. I break away from his mouth to lean back against his touch. His skin is cool and every pass of his fingers over my skin sends shivers of pleasure throughout my entire body. I moan and lean my head back when his mouth finds my neck. His tongue is wide and a little rough and oh so good at pulling out those little noises I can't seem to stop making.

I'm losing control of the situation. I had a plan. I wanted to make him feel better. I wanted to have him making the little noises and squirming uninhibited against the sheets. I reach down and find one of his hands along my waist, rubbing and pressing against the pressure point at my hip. I take hold of it and pull it upwards, turning it over so that the scars are visible. He stops kissing along my neck and I think he might try and stop me. I don't give him the chance. I kiss along the edge of his wrist, tracing my tongue along the puckered edge of the scar before doing the same along his thumb. He hisses out a breath from between his teeth and I look up at him through my eyelashes.

"Does that hurt?" I ask, not wanting to do that, never wanting to do that.

"N-no," he replies around a swallow and a vehement shake of his head. "Doesn't hurt."

I try to hide a smirk before lowering my mouth over the length of his forefinger. He gasps and shifts beneath me, before settling on a small grunting sound. I move to the other finger and let my hands move to trace the indents along the bridge of his shell. When I pull my mouth away his fingers are wet and glistening and he's staring at me with open wonder. I keep hold of his hand and move it up and underneath my camisole, not stopping until it settles on my breast.

This is a new kind of touch. It's intimate and lovely and so very much adult. There's no mistaking it for anything else and I lean into his hand to encourage him. He won't act if he thinks there's any doubt on my part. There's a slow, painful moment when we just sit there, neither of us making a move and I think he's going to pull away with a blush and a shameful apology. I don't allow myself to relax until his hand moves of its own accord to properly cup me and his thumb works in a slow, meticulous circle around my nipple.

My breath comes out shaky and my eyes drift closed while the sensation coming from his hands works its way lower. My plan is out the window. I'm an incoherent mess and the only thought I can successfully focus on is the need to have his hand touching skin and not just rubbing against me through the fabric of my bra. I squiggle my shoulders and try to maneuver my arms through the straps without having to break contact. He must take my movements as a sign of displeasure because he instantly lets go and I can sense an apology forming on his lips.

"Hang on," I pant, pulling the straps down and fumbling with shaking hands to pry apart the clasp between my shoulder blades.

I toss aside the offending garment with a triumphant cry. He doesn't share my grin and instead stares at me with a terrified look in his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I'm going too fast. He still isn't entirely healed and I don't want to hurt him or make him nervous. I lean forward and settle on a soft kiss, grateful when his mouth opens to mine. My hands are searching, pressing on every grove and divot in his plastron. I drag my fingers up to where his shell meets softer skin and I press against the spot I know will make him moan. He doesn't disappoint and the sound sends a tremble between my legs.

"Touch me. I want you to," I insist and he doesn't have to be told twice.

I gasp at the feel of his cold hands along the sensitive skin of my breasts and can't help but wonder what they would feel like in lower, warmer places. He's a quick study and I don't know why I thought he might not be. He draws out little whines and moans from me with each pass of his thumb and if I don't do something soon to gain control I might lose it entirely.

"Lie back," I say. I rest my palms on his chest and give a small push in case he thought I wasn't serious.

I place a leg on either side of him and lean down into a kiss. He gently holds the back of my head and I hope he might finally be starting to relax. I trail my fingers up to the soft spot along his shell and sigh when I hear the quiet moan my touch draws from him.

"I wonder," I breathe, dragging my nails down his bridge. "Is it just as sensitive down here?"

I curl my finger underneath his shell along his right leg, searching out the soft skin beneath. He gasps, an actual gasp and it only makes me bolder to hear it. I trace along the top of his thigh and grin when moves his hips in time with my touch. There's a slight bulge at the low point of his plastron and I blush assuming what is underneath. I run a hand over it and he gasps again, this time reaching down almost instantly to take hold of my wrist and stopping me from any further exploring. He sits up, pulling me with him. His eyes are wide and just a little bit frightened and I feel my boldness leave me in an instant and I move to cover myself with my other arm, suddenly feeling very exposed.

"I…I'm sorry," I say quickly. "Was that bad? I didn't mean to…"

"N-no," he says, shaking his head and struggling to swallow. "Not bad. It's just…I mean, technically, no, no it wasn't bad. I'm just, you see that's…"

He won't look me in the eyes until I take hold of his face and force him to. "Hey, it's all right," I say quietly, leaning my forehead against his. "We don't have to go any further. If you don't want me to…"

"I want you to," he murmurs and all the pain and need behind that second word makes me pause. "It's…it's just I'm…different," he says, closing his eyes and trying to turn his face away. "There…it…it might not be what you're expecting."

I lean forward a press a kiss against his eyelid. "I don't exactly have anything to compare it to," I whisper, blushing instantly and unable to keep back a nervous giggle.

He opens one eye and looks up at me. "Right…yes, but I," he sighs around a grimace. "I'm sorry, I ruin everything."

"No," I say, refusing to let go. "No, you didn't ruin anything. This is my fault. I thought…I had this ridiculous plan," I sigh and lean against him. "We should have talked first. I just thought," I feel like my skin is on fire with the embarrassing blush that refuses to leave. "You've been in so much pain lately…I wanted to make you feel good."

He makes a tiny noise in his throat and I feel his hands tighten around my waist. He leans forward and presses his mouth against neck, taking in a long, slow breath before I feel his tongue touch my skin. I have to let go of his head and let my hands fall to his shoulders for leverage. I'm moaning again before I can register what's happening and I arch my hips forward, gasping when I meet the hard plates of his plastron. He groans against my throat and the sound vibrates across my skin and makes me move my hips again in need of the same response.

"I…I feel good just being with you," he says in a husky whisper and his breath is hot against my throat.

That's sweet and kind and entirely not what I meant and he knows it. He's giving me an out. I don't take it. I don't want an out. I keep one hand on his shoulder and buck my hips forward, moaning at the jolt of pleasure it sends through my body. His teeth graze across the tight skin of my throat and part of me yearns for him to bite down.

"Want you to feel better than good," I breathe, snaking one hand down his torso to lightly move my fingers across his lower plates.

"April," he groans and his hand grips my hip.

I reach lower, tracing my fingers lightly around the bulge in his plastron. His entire body shudders at the touch. I move my hand between his legs, happy when he shifts to give me better access. I don't know what I expect to find, I just know every move of my fingers against him makes him squirm in the best possible way. My fingers graze against something unfamiliar and I pause when he lets out a gasp and moves his hips towards my hand. I must look surprised because his face falls and I know that look. It's worry and anxiety and self-loathing all rolled into one little grimace and it makes my heart clench in my chest to see it.

"I…maybe we should…" he starts to stammer out an excuse for fleeing and I feel him shift beneath me.

I stop him with a kiss; firm and deliberate and nothing if not an invitation for more. I take the small moment of distraction to continue my exploration. The muscular appendage twitches and moves against my prodding fingers and when I take hold of it Donnie breaks from the kiss with a strangled cry.

"Oh."

Is all he manages as a slow pull of my fingers drags out a low moan and another full-bodied shudder.

"Is that…your tail?" I ask, pressing my thumb against the base and delighting in the rumbling sound it draws from his chest.

He nods. "Y-yeah it…it's umm, oh…God, April," he pants and leans forward. A nervous chuckle melts into a grunt when I rub my thumb in a slow, deliberate circle around the sensitive base. "That's…you're…if you don't stop soon…" he trails off into another low moan and I still my hand at the almost pained look on his face.

The bulge in his lower plates pushes the crease between them open and the pain must be coming from his effort to keep himself hidden. I let go of his tail and he whimpers but looks just a little bit relieved. He's still nervous. He doesn't want me to see him and I'm not about to make him do something he isn't comfortable with. I tilt his chin up and we kiss.

"Are you all right?" I ask, sighing into his mouth when his hand starts to move against my lower back.

"Yeah," he says with another grimace and a press of his fingers that sets me shivering. "Are…are you?"

"Yes," I hiss through my teeth when he moves his nimble fingers along my ribs.

He's trying to distract me. Two can play at that game. My competitive nature is winning out over my nerves and I do the one thing I know will stop him in his tracts. It might be a cheap move and a little unfair, because I know he doesn't stand a chance, but when I push away and pull my camisole over my head and wiggle out of my shorts to perch on his lap in only my underwear the look on his face is worth it.

"April, what are…what are you…" he stammers and trips over every word, quickly looking away as though I might have disrobed by accident.

"Now we match," I say with a smile, taking hold of his chin to turn his head to look at me.

His eyes go wide, traveling over every inch of my exposed skin. I blush, but don't move to cover myself. I want him to relax. I need him to know that I want this. That what we're doing is all right and nothing to be ashamed of. He sighs and it isn't sad or frustrated, but quiet and content and there's finally a smile on his face.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he says and my blush flares to life again at the raw and undeniable sincerity behind the compliment.

"And you're the most handsome," I reply, kissing him between the eyes.

A bitter, little laugh escapes his mouth and my sudden rise to anger surprises even me.

"Don't do that," I say, leaning back to rest on the tops of his thighs so I can meet his gaze. "I mean it, Donnie. I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"All right," he murmurs, refusing to keep eye contact.

I'm sure he thinks he has ruined the mood and I won't let him. I had a plan and it didn't include him thinking he's ugly. I shift to straddle one of his legs and gasp when I press down against his thigh. The coolness of his skin is heaven against the growing warmth between my legs and even with the material of my underwear separating us I roll my hips to get another feel. He's watching me now, with unblinking eyes the size of saucers.

"Don't ever…doubt that I find you attractive," I say, running my hands down his plastron as I move against his leg with a whimper. "Your arms," I say with a sigh. "How cool and smooth your skin feels, the little gap in your teeth."

He gives a dismissive snort at that and I kiss him around a smile. "Your mouth," I add, pressing my palm against his lower plates and catching the resulting moan with another kiss. "I won't look if you don't want me to," I murmur, running my thumb along the edge of the slit. "But I want to feel you Donnie."

He closes his eyes and a deep grunt from low in his chest slides off into a sigh as I feel him drop down into my waiting hand. He's bigger than I anticipated, but manageable and I slowly wrap my hand around him. He takes in a sharp breath and bites his bottom lip in a feeble attempt to keep a moan at bay. I move my hand up and down his length and circle my thumb over the sensitive tip, shattering any of his hopes of remaining silent. He gasps and moves his hips in time with my hand.

"April," he moans my name and it's husky and wanting and full of need.

I never knew my name could be said like that. It sets the fire in my belly alight and I have to make sure it wasn't just a fluke. A few more slides of my hand and he says my name again and it's deep and wanting and rumbles in his throat. He tilts his head back and grips the blankets beneath him in a tight fist. That pained grimace is nowhere to be found and the look on his face is much closer to bliss than anything I've ever seen him wear. He's finally starting to relax. He's feeling good. My plan worked after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So I wrote a Donnie POV for this companion piece. It's a little shorter than the April chapter, but still fluffy/smut. Enjoy**

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><p>Donatello<p>

"Feel better?" she asks and there's a smug little smile behind the question that I don't mind one bit.

I don't know how to respond to that. I don't know how to respond to anything if I'm being honest. I can't seem to put together anything resembling human speech so instead I just nod and grin like an idiot. She doesn't seem to mind my lack of social skills, or verbal ones for that matter, because she answers my nod with a kiss. It's slow and searching and I sigh into her mouth when her hand releases me; sated.

"April," I say, finally finding my voice. "That…wow."

_So eloquent._

She smiles and kisses me lightly on the corner of my mouth. "Glad you liked it," she murmurs with another ghost of a kiss.

I shift and awkwardly tuck myself back into my plastron, feeling a blush burn across my face as I notice her watching me. Her face is flushed and her hair has long-since slipped from her ponytail holder to fall down around her bare shoulders. She's beautiful. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and she's here with me. The reality of the situation is a bit more than I can handle and I feel the all-too-familiar squeeze of anxiety in my chest.

This is too good to be true. I hoped, have hoped, that this was possible for me, but I never expected it to happen. She's wonderful and beautiful and I want to tell her how much this means to me but I can't find any words that don't sound cloying or pathetic so I reach out and gently brush her hair off her shoulder.

_This isn't supposed to happen. Something horrible is going to come along and ruin it. She's going to realize this was a mistake._

"Are you all right?" she asks and I take in a sharp breath at the concern in her voice.

I don't want her to be concerned. I don't want her to be anything but happy. I don't want her to think what just happened was anything but the best experience of my short life. I can't find the words. It unnerves me how absolutely and completely dumbstruck she has rendered me. I do the only thing that makes sense and kiss her. She opens her mouth to me and I feel a slight stir at the sounds she makes when I graze my hands over the skin of her back.

"All right," I reply, tracing the contours of her ribs. "Wonderful. You're wonderful."

_She smells so good._

She shivers and pushes down against my leg and there's no denying the wet heat against my skin. I want to make her feel as good as she made me. I can't say thank you. That seems cheap or somehow inappropriate, but I could make her feel good. I can, if she wants me to. I move my mouth to her throat, loving the feel of her racing pulse against my tongue.

"A-April?" I say around a nervous swallow.

"Uh huh?" she murmurs.

"Do…I mean…I could…you know…I mean, if you want I could try…"

"Yes," she says cutting off my rambling before it really picks up a rhythm.

There's more than a little pleading behind that one, glorious word and I squirm at the raspy sound of it. She feels so small in my arms and I brace my hand on her back before picking her up and placing her on the bed. She lets out a surprised yelp and then trails off into a series of nervous little giggles. She holds her hands out towards me expectantly and I lean over her, capturing her mouth once more. Her hands are searching and prodding and if I'm not careful I'll lose the upper hand again.

_Now or never. Don't be a coward. She said she wants this._

I break away from the kiss, her disappointed whimper quickly melting into a moan when I move my mouth to her breasts. They're soft and firm all at the same time and so much better than I ever could have imagined. Her hitched breaths and little moans let me know what she likes and I pay attention. Trial and error, it's what makes sense to me and I need something familiar to ground me in this entirely new situation. She gasps and arches her back off the mattress when I lightly take hold of her nipple between my teeth.

_Eureka._

"Oh, Donnie," she sighs, pushing her hips up against me and I can't help but notice how her hands are gripping the sheets and her tongue keeps rolling over her lips.

_She said your name._

I feel brave, I feel confident and maybe just a little reckless. I want her to say my name again. I don't want her to ever stop saying it. I move my hand down the length of her, pressing against every curve and bend before rubbing small circles on her thighs. She's squirming and moaning and pressing her feet together and I might lose it just watching her. Her hand moves above my own and she's pulling down her underwear and I avert my eyes in case she doesn't want me to look.

"Please," she whimpers and there's no way I could ever deny her.

I take in a deep breath and the smell of her fills my head. She's like honey and wildflowers and something undeniably female and before I can stop it a low rumble forms in my chest that sounds anything but human. It would usually be enough to deter me, to send me cowering back in that haze of embarrassment and self-loathing I've spent years cultivating, but not tonight. Not with her. I want her to feel good. I need her to know how special she is.

She bucks her hips when I move to touch her between her legs. I would be lying if I said I hadn't researched this. It was purely scientific, with anatomy text books and medical journals. It was ridiculous and naïve at the time, even considering that the knowledge would ever be of use to me, but I feel like it is best to be prepared. Now, in the moment I would hug my younger self and my hopeful foresight. The real thing isn't exactly the static drawings from those old text books, but I'm always up for a challenge.

She is soft and wet and incredibly hot against my fingers and the feel of her brings out another rumble from my chest. She moans and gasps with every slow circle of my thumb and I lean forward to lavish more attention on her breasts. Her hand immediately finds the back of my head, pulling me closer before gripping tightly to the back of my shoulder when another gasp tears from her throat. She moves her hips in time with my hand and a sudden wave of confidence sweeps over me and I slowly slip one of my fingers inside of her. Her eyes open wide and her mouth hangs open.

"S'okay?" I ask quickly, lifting my head to look up at her.

She bites her bottom lip and nods vigorously. "Y-yes," she pants, and when I gently move my finger she gasps and moans and clenches around me. "Oh, Donnie…" she murmurs, trailing off into a series of noises that stir me to my center and start a slow, heavy feeling to build beneath my plastron and in my tail.

I move my hand along with the rise and fall of her body and pay attention to every little moan and hitch in her breath, bringing her closer with each small movement. Her chest heaves and her back arches until her toes curl and I feel her clench and tremble around my finger. I slow my movements and can't for one second take my eyes away from her face and the look of utter contentment softening her features. She shudders and sighs when I remove my finger and her eyes flutter open with a shy smile settling on her lips.

"Wow," she says and the word trembles around a tiny laugh.

She moves her arms to cover her chest and I'm suddenly painfully aware of her state of undress. I reach down and drag up the blanket at the foot of the bed, tucking it around the both of us. She relaxes back against me and nuzzles her head into the crook where my neck meets my shoulder. I feel her tremble and wrap my arm around her, dusting my fingers over the dip of her waist.

"You're amazing," I whisper, afraid that if I speak too loudly my voice will shatter this perfect moment or I'll wake up from the dream I'm still not entirely convinced this isn't.

"Not so bad yourself," she replies, her breath finally evening out. She cranes her neck to look up at me with a playful grin. "Where exactly did you learn how to do that?"

I'm sure I'm blushing. I can feel it start at my throat and rise over the top of my head. "Oh, um, just instinct," I reply, less than convincingly.

She narrows her eyes a bit and purses her lips. "All right, keep your secrets then," she says with a little giggle, pressing a quick kiss on the cap of my shoulder.

"I'm a man of mystery, April," I say with a dramatic sigh and she laughs again, nudging me with her knee.

"Right, of course," she says and her words are cut short by a yawn.

She snuggles up against me and she's warm and perfect and everything wonderful in the world. I could stay here forever. We could never leave this room and I would be content. It can't last, that happy afterglow and I cling to it for as long as I can. I close my eyes and breathe in her scent. I wish it could always be like this.

"It's snowing," she says and her voice is heavy with barely held off sleep.

I open my eyes and look out the dark window to the blanket of snow falling just beyond the glass. If I didn't want to leave the warmth of her bed before I certainly don't want to now. I mentally curse my ridiculous curfew and curl around her tighter. I don't relish the idea of walking home in a blizzard.

"You should probably spend the night," she says, trying to hide a smirk by nuzzling further against me. "Wouldn't be safe to walk home in that."

"No, not safe at all," I reply, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sure Master Splinter would understand."

"Of course he would," she says with a chuckle.

"He'd want to talk to your Dad," I say, blushing at the mere memory of that conversation with my father. "He's worried I'm not considering your honor," I add before a troubling thought occurs to me. "Where is your Dad?"

"Oh, in his room," she replies and I must look terrified because she snickers and playfully smacks my chest with the back of her hand. "I'm kidding, relax. He's upstate at his cousin's wedding."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and offer a shaky smile in reply.

She traces her finger along the top of my plastron and says quietly. "I told him I wasn't feeling well."

_She planned this. _

"Oh…really?" I say around an awkward clearing of my throat.

She rolls over onto her stomach and pushes up onto her forearms so our faces are even. "I wanted to seduce you," she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

I laugh and lean forward into a kiss, breaking apart to lean against her forehead. "You really didn't have to go to so much trouble."

I cringe at the sound of my T-Phone ringing and wince when I catch sight of the time.

_They're never going to let you leave the lair again._

"Don't answer it," April says, holding onto my shoulders.

I have to. I'm already late and if I don't respond they'll come looking for me. Sighing, I reach over her to snag it from where it fell to the floor beside her bed. A blinking voicemail glares up at me and I think I can hear Sensei's disappointed throat noise all the way from the lair. It's Leo. He's not happy and I close my eyes and zone out as he goes off on a diatribe about the importance of keeping promises. Taking a deep breath I call back. He answers after one ring and I can picture him tapping his foot.

"You're late," he says instead of any normal greeting.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just really coming down out there and I had to turn back," I say, surprised at how easily the lie stumbles out and I instantly feel guilty. "I was just about to call."

"Raph can come get you."

I pinch my eyes shut. "No, no that's all right. I'm fine. I…I'll stay on the couch. The storm should let up by morning."

There's a long, empty pause on the other end and I hold my breath waiting for him to respond.

"Donnie…"

"Leo, come on," I say, stopping him before another lecture can formulate. "It's freezing outside."

_And oh so nice and warm in April's bed._

He sighs and I know I've got him. "All right, fine, but get back here first thing in the morning or we're coming to get you."

"Right, yes, first thing, I promise," I reply quickly before he can change his mind. "Thanks, night, Leo," I hang up before he can respond and look over at April, completely shocked that things turned in my favor.

"It worked?" she asks and her shocked expression mirrors my own.

I nod and slip back under the covers, instantly finding her lips with mine. She squeals and rolls over to lie on top of me. We kiss and touch and it's all lazy hands and languid tongues. The more intimate touches from before aren't present, but it's just as nice and almost as satisfying. Her skin, her scent is already familiar and I hope that the rest of her will soon be as well. There is only her and I and everything is so close to perfect it hurts. I try to burn every touch, every sound and taste into my memory for the future when things might not be so warm and content. She drifts to sleep at my side and I watch her until my eyes grow heavy and I slip into the waiting darkness; the snow still falling outside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note: The Conclusion to this little companion piece. April POV with some morning after fluffiness. I'll be starting the proper sequel to _Click _next, so keep an eye out if you're looking for it :0)**

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><p>April<p>

It's warm and cozy and I want to stay curled up like this forever. The snow hasn't stopped with the rising of the sun and when I finally lift my head from the pillow I can see it clinging to the window, frosting over the glass. Memories from the night before come crashing back in a fragmented slideshow of hands and mouths and I feel a blush burn across my skin at the thought of it. He's still asleep, his head tilted back and his breath catching on a quiet snore. My plan didn't go exactly how I had imagined it. I certainly didn't envision him doing that with his fingers, but for once I'm glad to be surprised; wonderfully and deliciously surprised.

I crane my neck to glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It isn't horribly late, but Donnie had promised to go back to the lair first thing in the morning and it is most assuredly past first thing. I don't want to wake him. He looks so content and relaxed and the thought of ruining that makes my stomach squirm. He's already late, what's a little while longer going to matter? I slip out from under the covers and shiver the instant the cold air touches my bare skin. I quickly dress in my pajamas and snag his T-Phone off the nightstand before tip-toeing out towards the kitchen.

Leo has already left several messages, each one more annoyed than the one before it. I know if I don't call back one of Donnie's brothers will show up at my window with a scowl and drag him out into the snow. It rings twice and Leonardo answers.

"First thing, Donnie. You said you'd be back first thing. It's almost 9:30."

"Hey, Leo," I say and there's a tiny intake of breath on the other end.

"April," he replies, clearing his throat. "Where is Donatello?"

"He's sleeping," I say. "He's not feeling well and you know he doesn't get enough rest. I didn't have the heart to wake him."

There's a long pause at the other end. I almost think he hung up before he says in a quiet voice.

"I'm sending Raphael over."

"No," I say a little too forcefully. Raphael is the last turtle I want to see right now. "What about Mikey?"

There's another pause. "Why does it matter?" Leo asks and I struggle to come up with a reason beyond not wanting to see his smug face.

"I just…if you have to send someone, a gentler touch might be a better choice," I say quickly.

"Fine," he says with a sigh. "Try to get him to eat something."

We say our quick goodbyes and I set the phone down onto the counter. I don't want to wake Donnie up, but I'm sure he doesn't want to be caught sleeping in my bed when his brother gets here. I decide to give him a few more minutes to rest. It'll take Michelangelo a while to make his way through the snow to my apartment and it will give me time to shower. Clean and refreshed I linger in the doorway to my bedroom, drying my hair with a towel. In my absence Donnie has spread out across the bed, his left hand dangling off the edge. I crawl up beside him and lean in towards his ear.

"Donatello," I say quietly, giving him a quick kiss. "Time to get up."

He grimaces and pinches his eyes shut tighter, mumbling something incoherent. It's sweet and adorable and sets my butterflies flapping. I kiss him again and inch my fingers down to that spot along the edge of his shell I know makes him squirm. He doesn't disappoint and even half-asleep lets out a little moan.

"Wake up," I say in a sing-song voice, nuzzling against his neck. "Come on, lazy bones. They're sending out a rescue party to come collect you."

He blinks open one eye and mumbles a sleepy. "Huh?"

"It's late," I say with a smile. "I told Leo you weren't feeling well so he's sending Mikey to come and get you."

"You talked to Leo?" he asks, rubbing his eyes around a comically large yawn.

"He left a bunch of messages," I say. "I thought it was better to call back before Raph showed up at my door."

"Good idea," he says, pushing up onto his elbows with a grimace that is more pain than exhaustion.

Guilt starts to squirm and twist in my stomach at the sight of it. Sure I convinced myself that last night was all about making him feel better, but that wasn't entirely the truth. I wanted it, needed it, just as much as he did. The last few weeks were so full of pain and worry. I just wanted one night where we could forget all that and be together. I was impulsive and selfish. He's not well and now he's back to hurting. He must see the concern in my eyes because he offers a little smile and grips the headboard to sit up.

"Don't worry. It's not so bad, a little stiff in the morning, that's all," he assures me.

I don't entirely believe him, but it isn't worth an argument. "Hungry? I was going to make breakfast," I say, watching him struggle as he swings his feet to the floor.

"Yeah…that'd be nice," he says and there's a slight tremble to his smile. "Um, first…I mean, would it be all right if I…if I took a shower?" he asks and his face darkens with a blush.

The image of Donnie in the shower, my shower, brings my own blush to the forefront. "Sure," I say with a quick nod. "I'll help you," my eyes go wide. "I mean, I'll get you a towel and…and stuff…I didn't mean, help you shower…I…" I take in a sharp breath and wonder if it's too late to hide under the bed.

He's smirking when I finally get the nerve to look up and I punch him lightly in the shoulder. "Come on," I grumble with a pout that quickly upturns into a smile when a low chuckle rumbles in his chest.

I don't know if we should talk about what happened. I'm not avoiding it outright, but there doesn't seem to be a natural way to bring it up. I'm not even sure if it needs to be brought up. He seems all right, in pain, but surprisingly content. If a long, intense conversation about where we stand would ruin that I'm in no rush to broach the topic. I drape his arm over my shoulder and help him stand. He might not need the help and if I'm honest it's a bit of an excuse to stay close to him.

"I'll turn the heat up," I say when I feel him shiver.

He nods and we move slowly down the hallway towards the bathroom. I turn on the light and he sits on the edge of the tub while I gather a towel and washcloth for him.

"All right, um, soap is under the sink. You have to jiggle the handle a bit for the hot water to work. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

He nods and reaches out to snag my hand before I can leave the room. He turns it over and rests a light kiss across my knuckles. "Thank you."

I grin, it's silly and girly and part of me is embarrassed that I am dangerously close to giggling. "You're welcome," I say, clearing my throat and regaining my composure.

I close the door and leave him to it, stopping at the thermostat to crank up the heat. Mikey will be freezing too by the time he gets here. I hear the water turn on in the shower and try to focus on the task of making breakfast and not Donnie in the shower. I turn on the radio to drown out the noise and listen to the newscaster blather on about the snow storm. I fill the coffee pot and stand on my tiptoes to snag the waffle maker from the cupboard above the sink. A loud, percussive knock reverberates off the front door and I know it's Mikey.

"Hey April," he says when I open the door.

He's bundled up and even though a scarf covers his mouth I know he's grinning. He kicks the snow off his boots before coming inside and instantly starts shedding the layers of clothing. He sighs and stretches his arms above his head, leaning one way and then the other.

"I hate the snow," he says, leaning forward to touch his toes. "It's freezing."

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" I offer and his grin is back in an instant.

"Yes, please," he says, bounding over the couch and climbing up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "Ooo, waffles?" he asks, eyeing the waffle maker.

"Yeah, you want some?" I ask, laughing when he grins and nods enthusiastically in reply.

"Donnie still sleeping?" he asks and I can't help but notice his eyes dart towards the empty couch.

"Shower," I reply, turning my back to him so he can't see the guilty smirk on my face.

I put the kettle on and fill a mug with cocoa mix, hoping the sugary drink will be enough to distract him from asking any further questions. Mikey hums quietly while I prepare his drink and offers an appreciative smile when I hand him the mug.

"Thanks," he says, blowing across the surface. "Leo said Donnie isn't feeling well," he adds once my back is turned and I'm busying myself with breakfast.

"A little sore," I reply. "I don't think the weather is helping any."

He sighs and takes a tentative sip of his drink. "Master Splinter shouldn't have let him leave the lair," he says quietly.

He's worried and only has Donnie's best interests at heart. I know that. It doesn't matter. His words rile me to anger. If he hadn't left the lair last night never would have happened. I don't even like the idea of someone trying to hypothetically take that away from us.

"You guys can't keep him locked up down there forever," I say, regretting the harshness of my tone.

Mikey is watching me very carefully with an expression I can't quite place. His mouth is even and his eyes crinkle at the corners with something that isn't exactly anger and hovers just around worry. He looks like Leo in that moment and the comparison is enough to unnerve me. He wraps his hands around the mug of hot chocolate, the cup looking tiny in his grip.

"It's not about locking him away," he says and I instantly feel guilty for having jumped down his throat. "He's not exactly the most honest about how he's feeling. Just means we have to watch him more closely so he doesn't hurt himself more."

I nod and turn away, opening the fridge in search of ingredients. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" I trail off into a sigh. "I know you all mean well."

"And we know you do too," he says quietly, catching me unprepared with the sentiment.

I don't know why I thought Mikey would feel any differently. Why I prepared myself for a fight. Why I instantly went on the defensive the second he walked through the door. He's not Raphael and he's never been anything but supportive. He's just worried about his brother. They all are. It's concern for his health. It has nothing to do with me and I feel shame claw and tug at my insides at my selfish and arrogant assumption that this was anything to do with me.

"You make him happy, ya know," he says with a tiny smile. "And that means a whole lot, 'cause he's not always, like the happiest of guys."

I feel the shame melt away into something warm and gooey and I know it is gratitude. I smile back, surprised to find the edges wavering slightly. "He…he makes me happy too," I reply.

"Oh...hey, Mikey," Donnie's quiet voice calls from the hallway. "Didn't think you'd be here so soon."

I cough and turn, hoping to hide my sudden swell of emotion. Mikey is already on his feet, helping his brother over to the breakfast nook. For his part Donnie doesn't refuse the assistance. His steps are slow and deliberate and his hand lingers just below the scar across his plastron. He's hurting more than he's admitting too. I won't push him on the subject and neither does Michelangelo. If the pain becomes too much he'll say something. For now we just have to be there for him when he'll let us.

"I stayed underground as far as I could," Mikey says, lowering Donnie onto one of the stools. "A few of the higher tunnels are flooded and most of the side streets aren't plowed yet. It's a mess."

He makes sure Donnie is settled before adding with a grin that takes up the majority of his face. "April is making waffles."

"Excellent," Donnie replies, smiling around a grimace when I place a cup of coffee in front of him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I say, letting my hand linger a little longer than normal on top of his.

Mikey notices but doesn't call attention to it as if it is so normal and commonplace that it doesn't deserve a mention. He continues to give a blow by blow recap of his walk through the snow, complete with animated hand gestures and poor imitations of the people he passed along the way. Soon we're all laughing and the warm smell of breakfast fills the air. It's calm and peaceful and painfully normal; just a meal shared between friends. It's another distraction from our lives, like everything that happened in the last few hours and I cling to it like a life raft. I wish the snow could fall forever.


End file.
